Jar of Dirt
by Aespren
Summary: Not everyone gets to come back a hero; however, just making it back is often an accomplishment on its own. Then on those days when the wind is strong and weather is fierce sometimes you get a taste of those times, and you can feel like that part of yourself that has been missing is there once more. Most importantly, when those you love come back, none of that matters.


**_A/N _**_Originally this had started off as a tumblr prompt from a user asking for a post-story date. Then... it kind of turned into this, and I decided to submit it for Jearmin week. I quite like the results; but I still have to write that date sometime._

_If you enjoyed feel free to leave me a message here, or you can find me on tumblr under the same name._

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Armin sat on the wooden steps in front of his house, staring up at the clouded sky that spat down upon him. The rain had only started moments ago, but already he could feel the moisture soaking through his clothes, slowly turning his skin colder. It was days like these that reminded him the most of the survey corps. Everyone always dreaded going out under conditions like these. It made visibility harder, movement slower, and the risk of your maneuver gear failing raised drastically. Now though, it only served as a reminder of days that would never come again.

The threat of the titans had dwindled to the point where the survey corps rarely encountered them and the garrison only spotted a few within an entire day. Humanity was coming close to its freedom. Thus the amount of casualties that occurred outside the walls had plummeted to the point where barely five percent of the survey corps troops were lost after each expedition, a drastic decrease from what had always been a minimum of thirty. However, there were still some that had suffered losses without actually dying; like Erwin… and himself.

Armin reached down and took his boots off, exposing his foot to the outside air. He placed into into the muddy puddle in front of him, letting it seep into the cracks in his feet. Armin reached down and ran his hand along the stub that stuck out from his right knee. Sometimes, it still felt like he had two legs…

There was no point in being upset about it. They had, in fact, made it out alive with a minimum amount of casualties. He was still alive, the people that mattered most to him were still alive, and those that had lost their lives had done so valiantly. It was a time for rejoice among the people. Not now, but years from now, perhaps in the generation of their grandchildren, there may now come a time where it was safe to leave the walls.

Until then though, and only if he lived that long, he remained trapped inside. Occasionally Hange would call on him for advice and strategies, but besides that he remained locked up in his house while everyone he loved put their lives on the line. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would never see the ocean.

The boy reached a hand out into the rain, cupping his hands to catch the water that fell from the sky. He poured it onto his head, enjoying the refreshing feeling it gave.

Armin took off the wooden prop that served as a second leg, placing it up against the doorway so that it was safe from the rain. He stood up, and with the help of the wall beside him, took a step forward, letting the droplets plummet down upon him. His one good leg sunk into the mud, and he wiggled his toes in the mud, enjoying the feeling.

On days like these, he could pretend like he was still out there with them, bearing the elements while experiencing the one true taste of freedom.

"Hey, you trying to take a bath or something?"

Armin's eyes shot open, and he stared into the orbs of one of people he loved.

Jean Kirstein stood before him.

Armin realized now just how ridiculous he must have looked; standing in a mud puddle in the rain, eyes closed, boots off, and even a leg missing. He could feel a slight bit of warmth rush to his cheeks, and he hoped that the clouds were masking the light enough so that it wasn't noticeable.

"I-I was…"

"Hey, you don't actually need to answer. You can be a weirdo as much as you want." Jean ruffled Armin's hair affectionately, but it only caused him to lose his balance, and Armin found himself reaching out for Jean as his body fell forward.

"Er- sorry about that." Jean mumbled.

Armin just nodded, pushing himself back upright, and hopping a step back to the stairs, so he could grab his belongings; including what he needed to properly stand. When he had managed to regain enough of his dignity to face the other again, he turned back around. "When did you get back in? Why are you here? …Is Eren alright?" He asked the last question hesitantly. It wasn't often that Jean was the first to visit him after a mission. He was a squad leader, and that usually meant he had duties to fulfil before he was allowed free time.

"Yeah, that cockroach is just fine. We all got back in safe about an hour ago."

"Then did something happen? Don't you have work to do?"

"I had something else I had to do first. I have to give you something." Jean grabbed the object that he had been keeping underneath his arm. Armin had failed no notice it prior, and only now observed that it was a jar. The contents were a light brown, and the matter inside shifted as Jean held it forward.

Armin took it skeptically. "You wanted to give me a jar of dirt?"

"Come on, you don't seriously think I'd get you dirt, do you?" Jean huffed, his pride obviously dinged. He seemed hesitant to explain what it actually was though, and the next words he spoke were slow. "We… we reached the ocean. It's a jar of sand."

The words both struck and elated Armin at the same time. It hurt him to know that others had achieved his dream; one that was now impossible. However… the thought that went into this gift was enough to make his eyes sting.

Armin pulled the jar into his chest, wrapping his arms around it tenderly.

"T-thank you."


End file.
